


Routine

by skarletfyre



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, after sex - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8135842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarletfyre/pseuds/skarletfyre
Summary: On a hot summer afternoon, Spy finds himself pushing the envelope.





	

To think, that this had become something of a routine.

The humid, midsummer afternoon was perhaps not the best time for a tryst. It was too hot. Their skin was slick and sour with sweat, chests and arms and legs sticking together as they pressed close. Huffs of warm breath on each other’s face and neck were more uncomfortable than usual. Fingertips and fingernails slipped through damp, sweat-matted hair, slightly unpleasant and struggling for purchase and distracting from the more pleasurable moments at hand.

But they hadn’t stopped yet. In truth, Spy sincerely hoped they wouldn’t stop this any time soon no matter what the unpredictable New Mexican weather threw at them next.

The Medic was dozing in the bed beside him, shirtless and without his glasses. He was sprawled on his back, limbs spread out enough that none were in contact with the others in an effort to keep cool. The blankets had been shoved onto the floor, though the sheets had been pulled over enough to cover his private parts. Some misguided attempt at modesty, despite what the two of them had just been up to in that bed.

Spy, by contrast, lay on his stomach. His arms were up and wrapped around the pillow that his face was half buried in. It was hot, but he was too comfortable to move. He’d kicked the sheets off himself entirely, laying bare for all the world to see, if only someone bothered to barge in. One leg half-hung over the edge of the mattress, foot bobbing lazily in the sweltering air in an effort to keep himself from falling asleep entirely.

It was tempting. It was always tempting, to simply stay in the bed for hours and hours.

Medic’s head was turned away from him, giving Spy a delightful view of the man’s wonderfully strong jaw. It was late enough in the day for a raspy coat of stubble to start coming in, shading his cheeks and neck. Spy couldn’t see the doctor’s face but knew that his eyes were closed. That he, too, wanted to fall asleep and let the hours drift away.

“ _Docteur,”_ Spy murmured, as he always did.

“Hn.”

“Are you asleep?”

“You know that I’m not.”

Medic’s voice was thick and tired. Sleepy. Comfortable, oh, but he sounded so comfortable. A rare state that Spy hated to interrupt.

But this too was now a routine.

“We have to get up, you know.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to use your shower.”

“ _Ja,_ that is fine.”

This was the part where Spy was meant to get up. To slowly pull himself from the bed and make his way, naked and languid, to the emergency decontamination shower booth that Medic had converted into a small yet proper bathroom, just as he had converted the room itself into a place to sleep. His bare feet would pad across the dusty throw rug. The waterproof privacy screen would rustle and creak as he pulled it back, and when the water hit him he would sigh, a genuine and contented sigh, loud enough to carry to the ears of the man waiting for him in the bed. And when he was finished cleaning himself he would towel off, ruffle his hair until it was only just damp, before returning to the bedroom and searching for his clothes.

Medic would be sitting up on the edge of the bed, half dressed himself. He would have gone back into work mode – _colleague_ mode, _professional_ mode, _this doesn’t mean anything outside of this room_ mode – and expect the same courtesy of Spy. Spy, being a courteous man against his better nature, would oblige.

It was a well practiced little routine the two of them had down, as many times as they had gone through it. Spy knew his lines and his cues, as did Medic. They could likely take their show on the road, if they thought anyone might pay to see it.

Spy hadn’t moved yet.

He knew he ought to. That shower was waiting for him, and he did desperately want to feel clean again before going back to work.

But still, he hadn’t moved. And, in not moving, had found that he didn’t particularly want to at all. But _not_ moving was not part of the routine. And not adhering to the routine…

It had its appeal.

Spy decided to continue not moving. Not strictly breaking away from the norm, not yet, but simply… putting it off. Leaving an opening for it to be changed more drastically, if he dared. Mostly, Spy just wanted to see what would happen.

At first, nothing did. Medic remained motionless, breathing softly through his nose, hairy chest rising and falling in a subtle yet steady rhythm. Spy watched him, waiting. A nervousness began to creep up on him the longer nothing changed, making him wonder if Medic intended to keep feigning sleep, keep to his part of the routine until Spy got the message. He didn’t know how long to keep delaying. How long it was safe to wait.

But after a few minutes of laying still, of not getting up to do his part, the doctor finally gave him a reaction.

Medic’s head turned slowly. His eyelids fluttered open with effort until his eyes were open and focused on Spy’s face. For a moment, all he did was look.

“What are you doing?” he breathed. Spy smiled the smallest smile imaginable.

“I don’t think I want to get up this time.”

Medic closed his eyes again, a long blink accompanied by a deep, slow sigh. He turned his face back away from him.

“I don’t think I do either.”

And so they didn’t. And just like that, the routine was broken.

This was brave new territory now, Spy thought to himself. Back to the beginning. Back to not knowing what could be gotten away with, what was acceptable or just too far over the line. It wasn’t as frightening this time around. He didn’t feel as though he was caught up in a whirlwind, at least. This felt more… stable.

Though, a sense of stability was easy to obtain when it could only be compared to dragging another man into a closet by his tie.

It was still too hot in the room, and would be hot for the rest of the evening he knew, but there was something he wanted to try. At a glacial pace, he scooted himself across the mattress and closed the carefully maintained divide between his body and Medic’s own. Their skin was cooled by sweat, but as soon as they made contact the heat was immediate. Spy persevered. His lean arm draped itself across Medic’s middle while his head settled on the crook of the other man’s shoulder. He wanted to press their flanks together, get in as close as he dared until he was pushed back, just to test the waters, but knew that if he did so the temperature would truly become unbearable.

Medic grunted as Spy settled into place.

“It’s too hot,” he grumbled. But he didn’t try to move away, or move Spy away from him.

“I know it is.”

The doctor sighed, and Spy’s arm rose and fell with his broad chest. And then Medic’s arm moved from its place over his head and curled down around Spy’s back, and it stayed there.

It really was too hot, but somehow that wasn’t so bad after all. When he woke hours later with the sky black outside the windows and Medic’s lips in his short hair, Spy decided that it was worth it.

He could always shower later.


End file.
